Battles of Obstinacy: Hetalia!
by Perfect-Tempest
Summary: How can you let him get away with that? Amusing arguments ensue when you disagree with the Hetalia Crew. ReaderxVarious. Fluff, drabble, one-shot.
1. Battle of Bonaparte

**вαттℓє σf вσ****и****αραятє **

**/FrancisxReaderxNapoleon/**

"**Throw off your worries when you throw off your clothes at night."**

**-Napoleon Bonaparte**

**August 15****th**

"Francis! Do you know what today is?"

Eyes disconnecting from his elegant breakfast, the Frenchman glanced up. Enthusiasm abound, your smile grew upon locking stares with your lover. Francis sighed; your charm was irresistible. "_Oui_?" He leaned across the table, assessing you with a lusty smirk. "What is today, _mon cher_?"

"Napoleon's birthday!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands together.

"Why, it is, isn't it?" Francis sighed nostalgically. "Ah, my beloved Bonaparte…"

Disapproval invaded your eyes.

"_Your_ beloved Bonaparte?" Your eyebrows rose. "I think not, Francis."

"_Que_?" Francis blinked. "But of course! He was French, after all."

Rearing to your full height, you retorted, "You can't have him!" Confusion entered the Frenchman's suddenly troubled gaze. Your glare was lethal, piercing the essence of his soul. Francis was shocked. Had he said something to upset you?

"_Mon amour_," he stated in a concerned tone, "what is the matter?"

Scintillating stare intensifying, you clenched your fists. "I said that you can't have Napoleon. He is _not _yours."

An epiphany struck Francis; envy had to be the reason for your reaction! "Ahh, I see what troubles my most beautiful lover! _Ohonhonhon_~!" He stood, hand slinking around your waist. "Fear not, my heart belongs only to you~!" He pressed his lips to your cheek whilst his free hand claimed your defiant chin. "Your jealousy is so cute, _mon chou_~!"

Before he could steal a kiss, your fist drilled his stomach.

With a hard shove, you snapped, "Not happening, Francis!"

Nursing his injury as he clutched the table, Francis exclaimed, "_Je suis perplexe_!" What on earth had gotten into you? He had no idea what he had done! "_Je suis désolé_! I am sorry, _mon cher_! But, what have I done to offend you? Why can't I call my beloved Bonaparte my own?"

"I told you not to say that."

"But why not?"

With a roll of your eyes, you replied, "Because he is _mine_." Napoleon belonged to you? The thought amused him at first, but upon seeing how serious you were, discomfort nudged Francis. Your eyes never lied. The deep admiration reflected in your gaze made insecurity flare within him.

"Oh please!" Francis ran his fingers through his silky locks. "And what of me, mmm?"

Advancing on you, the Frenchman snatched your wrist and pulled you against him. Disgust crinkled your nose. "What of you, indeed! Get off me, you pervert! Or I'll scream for Britain!" Expertly snaking his leg around yours, Francis pulled your support from beneath you, hands catching your back as you collided with the table. The tablecloth bunched beneath you as Francis climbed on top of your prone body. "_Hey_!"

Straddling you eagerly, he chuckled huskily, "Scream your pretty little head off, by all means." Mouth hovering over yours, he heatedly whispered, "Because I will not allow even dearest Napoleon your love." Lips falling upon yours with unparalleled passion, Francis kissed you with such determination and dominance that you had no choice but to surrender.

Breathless, you stared up at him when he pulled back, victorious.

**Extended Ending**

"You are mine, _mon amour_," Francis affectionately nuzzled the nape of your neck.

To his surprise, you started giggling, stopping him from kissing you a second time as he leaned forward. He lifted a questioning eyebrow. "Francis," you struggled not to laugh, "this is the first time I've seen the Country of Love suffer from jealousy…pffft!"

"_Oui_, but I can tell that _l'amour _you possess for Napoleon is quite real."

"Of course it is; Napoleon is amazing."

Francis's smile tightened. "But not as amazing as _moi_, especially where the bedroom is concerned." He winked and you grinned. "Care to see why?"

You smirked deviously. "By all means, blow my mind."


	2. Battle of the Bed

**ღ ****вαттℓє σf тнє вє∂ ****ღ**

**/ArthurxReader/**

**Summary: Everyone's favorite Brit is determined to have things go his way. Surprised? Of course you aren't. What has made the man so stubborn tonight? Your bed.  
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* * *

><p><strong>10:30 PM<strong>

"Excuse me, but I will not take your bed, you bloody-minded woman!"

"I'm the host, so just accept it already!"

"As a gentleman, I decline!"

"What gentleman fights with a lady?"

Flushing with indignation, Arthur yelled, "Would you stop being difficult? I will sleep on the couch if it's the last thing I do!" Scowling, he added, "Besides, what gentleman would make a lady sleep on the couch?"

Crossing your arms as you combated his sharp green gaze, you shot back, "A good hostess always makes her guests comfortable!" You glared, frustrated. "If you refuse to take it, neither of us will sleep in it!" Storming into the living room with Arthur begrudgingly following, you yanked out blankets and pillows, shoving them into his arms.

"_Thank you_," Arthur heatedly growled, setting up his bedding on one of the two couches.

"You are _so _welcome," you draped blankets on the opposite couch, "you stubborn _brat_."

"What did you call me, you little twit?" Arthur countered.

Now you were irritated. When you discovered Arthur on your doorstep that night, stranded because of the blizzard, you didn't expect to get locked in a competitive argument. "Good to know that you have bad hearing and poor manners."

Shoulders tightening as he whipped around, Arthur snapped, "You are driving me off my rocker!"

Glowering as you climbed under your blankets, you exclaimed, "Good! Then I can put you in an asylum!" Flicking off the light, you slammed your eyes shut and turned away.

"_Goodnight_," Arthur prodded, exasperated.

You rolled your eyes. "'_Night_."

Arthur muttered, "…pillock."

You grimaced. "Stop talking!"

"No, _you _stop!"

"_Arthur_!"

The two of you shot remarks across the couches until sleep claimed both of you.

**1:30 AM**

Arthur was irritated.

Stirring, he rested the back of his hand on his forehead, staring at the ceiling. Why couldn't you see that he got so worked up because he cared more about you than he should? He turned towards your couch, expression softening.

Alarm mingled with confusion.

You were gone.

Removing his blankets, Arthur pushed himself off the couch and went to investigate. Summoning his bravery, he decided that if he found you, he wanted to talk. After all, it _was _just the two of you. Disappointment hit him like a ton of bricks, however, when he walked into the hallway and heard the shower running.

"Blast all…" he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

Feeling badly about earlier, he stopped midway in the hallway, looking at your bedroom door. Eyes falling to the floor then lifting with determination, he seized the handle. Carefully pushing open the door, Arthur entered your room. He hurried into the bed and slipped beneath the blankets. Turning onto his opposite side, he bumped into a figure beside him. Arthur blanched. It looked like he wasn't the only person to change his sleeping place.

Startled, you awoke with a scream. "_Who's there_?"

Horrified, you shoved the intruder, gripping the front of their shirt. Frantically shrieking, the British 'gentleman' cried, "For the love of God, it's me!" You stopped, recognizing his voice.

"Arthur?" Lips falling ajar with surprise, you released him. "When did you…?"

The sound of running thundered down the hall. Before Arthur could leap out of the bed, the door burst open. "Don't worry, the hero has arrived!" The light flashed on. "Whoa! Dude!" Head dripping wet, towel clinging to his hips, Alfred arrived to discover a curious scene. "Holy crap! Arthur, what the heck are you doing bed with her?"

"I just, w-well, I-I didn't—!" Arthur spluttered. "Hold on! W-what are _you _doing here, you git?"

"Dude, I got stuck and needed somewhere to stay!"

Face-palming, you leaned back. About an hour after falling asleep, you awoke to get another blanket and discovered Alfred tapping on your window. You gave him the couch since he always slept on it, and returned to your bed.

"It's all right Alfred," you managed a laugh, "he just startled me."

"Oh, okay! Ahahaha, I hope you don't mind, but I kinda used your shower!"

"That's all right," you glanced at Arthur. "You can stay, if you want."

Reddening, Arthur exploded, "There's no way in bloody hell that I would ever share a bed with _you_!" Hurt, you frowned. Arthur tossed a worried glance at you and backpedaled. "N-not that I mean—argh! Oh, _forget it_!" Flinging away the blankets, he scurried out of the bed, but came to a dead-halt upon hearing familiar laughter.

"_Ohonhonhon_~! Then I can share a bed with her, _non_?"

Popping up beside Alfred, Francis smirked lasciviously at you. Francis had been stranded with Alfred earlier. Amused, you giggled when Arthur shouted, "You most certainly will not, Frog!" Seizing the door, he slammed it in the faces of the Frenchman and the American. Fuming, he snapped off the light.

Your heart leapt upon feeling him climb into bed beside you. Sitting up and biting your lip, you turned to him and murmured, "Hey, Arthur? About earlier, I'm s—" Gentle fingers obtained your chin. Your mouth fell open, exhales trembling against it. "A-Arthur?" Soft lips pressed nervously and desirously into yours. Excitement pulsing, you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair, kissing him passionately.

Arthur coughed, suddenly tearing away. "Gah, I-I'm sorry."

Hands faltering, you squinted in the darkness before reaching for him. Finding his shoulders, you moved your arms around his neck. "I forgive you," you smiled, cuddling up to him.

Blushing and muttering, Arthur groaned, "You really don't mind if I stay here until morning? If you want me to leave, I-I can go back to the—" Lifting yourself up and silencing his mouth with yours, you kissed him until he sank into the bed. Arthur returned your affections, holding you close. Lying on top of him, you pulled away to rest your head on his chest.

"Francis would molest you, besides," you snuggled into him, "I like how warm you are…"

For once, Arthur had nothing to say.

**Extended Ending **

"How did he get her?" Francis whined, pouting as Alfred tossed him an extra pillow.

"Pfft, man," Alfred laughed, "those two are _perfect _for each other!"

"What do you mean?" Francis raised a sulky eyebrow.

Folding his arms behind his head, Alfred explained, "Well, she's the only one with enough patience for him and he's the only one willing to put up with her competitiveness."

"He's not the only one…"

"Huh? You say something, dude?"

"_Non_~!"


End file.
